Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
lord_n	henry_n	thomas_n	william_n	45,902	5	7.8067	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
B09731	The beau's academy, or, The modern and genteel way of wooing and complementing after the most courtly manner in which is drawn to the life, the deportment of most accomplished lovers, the mode of their courtly entertainments, the charms of their persuasive language in their addresses or more secret dispatches, to which are added poems, songs, letters of love and others : proverbs, riddles, jests, posies, devices, with variety of pastimes and diversions as cross-purposes, the lovers alphabet &c. also a dictionary for making rhimes, four hundred and fifty delightful questions with their several answers together with a new invented art of logick : so plain and easie that the meanest capacity may in a short time attain to a perfection of arguing and disputing.	Phillips, Edward, 1630-1696?	1699 (1699)	Wing P2064; ESTC R181771	227,423	431

I 'me sure quoth one a worser Tomb must serve both me and mine Harry the Fifth lies there And there doth lie Queen Elenore To our first Edward she was Wife which is more then ye knew before Henry the Third lies there entomb'd he was Herb John in Pottage Little he did but still reign'd on although his Sons were at age Fifty six years he reigned King ere he the Crown would lay by Only we praise him ' cause he was last Builder of this Abby Here Thomas Cecil lies Who 's that why 't is the Earl of Exeter And this his Countess is to die how it perplexed her Life's sweet Here Henry Cary Lord Hunsdon rests what a noise a makes with his name He was Lord Chamberlain unto Queen Elizabeth of great fame And here one William Colchester lies of a certainty An Abbot he was of Westminster and he that says no doth lie Plain dealing 's a Jewel This is the Bishop of Durham by Death here laid in Fetters Henry the Seventh lov'd him well and made him write his Letters Sir Thomas Ruthat what of him poor Gentleman not a word Only they buried him here But now behold that man with a Sword Humphrey de Boliun who though he were not born with me in the same Town Yet I can tell he was Earl of Essex of Hereford and Northampton He was High Constable of England as History well expresses But now pretty Maids be of good chear we are going up to the Presses And now the Presses open stand and ye see them all arow But more is never said of these than what is said below Henry the Seventh and his fair Queen Edward the First and his Queen Henry the Fifth here stands upright and his fair Queen was this Queen The noble Prince Prince Henry King James's eldest Son He does not run atilt King James Queen Ann Queen Elizabeth and so this Chappel's done Now down the stairs come we again the man goes first with a staff Perchance one tumbles down two steps and then the people laugh This is the great Sir Francis Vere That so the Spaniards curri'd Four Collonels support his Arms and here his Body 's buried That statue against the wall with one eye is Major General Norrice He had two eyes if he could have kept them He beat the Spaniards cruelly as is affirm'd in Stories His six Sons there hard by him stand each one was a Commander To shew he could his Lady serve as well as the Hollander And there doth Sir John Hollis rest who was the Major General To Sir John Norrice that brave blade and so they go to Dinner all For now the Shew is at an end all things are done and said The Citizen pays for his Wife The Prentice for the Maid The Hector's Farewell GOod people all I pray give ear my words concern ye much I will relate a Hector's life pray God ye be not such There was a Gallant in the Town a brave and jolly Sporter There was no Lady in the Land but he knew how to court her His person comely was and tall more comely have been few men Which made him well beloved of men but more belov'd of women Besides all this I can you tell that he was well endow'd With many graces of the mind Which Heav'n on him bestow'd He was as liberal as the Sun his Gold he freely spent Whether it were his own Estate or that it were him lent For valor he a Lion was I say a Lion bold For he did fear no living man that Sword in hand did hold And when that he with glittring blade did e're assail his foes Full well I trow they did not miss their belly full of blows A Frenchman once assaulted him and told him that he ly'd For which with Quart-pot he him flew And so the French man dy'd Three Danes six Germans and five Swedes met him in Lane of Drury Who cause they took of him the Wall did kill them in his fury Upon his body I have heard full many a scar he bore His skin did look like Sattin pinckt with gashes many a score Oh had he lost that noble blood For Countries liberty Where could all England then have found so brave a man as he But wo is me these vertues great were all eclips'd with vice Just so the Sun that now shines bright Is darkned in a trice For he did swagger drink and game indeed what would he not His Psalter and his Catechize he utterly forgot But he is gone and we will let no more of him be said They say 't is nought to reveal The vices of the dead Beside we have some cause to think that he may scape tormenting For the old Nurse that wach'd with him did say he dy'd repenting The Second Part. FArewell three Kings where I have spent full many an idle hour Where oft I won but ne're did lose if it were within my power Where the raw Gallants I did chuse like any Ragamuffin But now I 'me sick and cannot play who 'l trust me for a Coffin Farewel my dearest Piccadilly Notorious for great Dinners Oh what a Tennis Court was there alas too good for sinners Farewel Spring-garden where I us'd to piss before the Ladies Poor Souls who 'l be their Hector now to get 'em pretty Babies Farewel the glory of Hide-Park which was to me so dear Now since I can't enjoy it more would I were buried there Farewel tormenting Creditors whose scores did so perplex me Well! Death I see for something 's good for now you 'l cease to vex me Farewel true brethren of the Sword all Martial men and stout Farewel dear Drawer at the Fleece I cannot leave thee out My time draws on I now must go from this beloved light Remember me to pretty Sue and so dear friends good night With that on Pillow low he laid his pale and drooping head And straight e're Cat could lick her ear poor Hector he was dead Now God bless all that will be blest God bless the Inns of Courts And God bless Davenants Opera which is the sport of sports On the Death of Jo. W. WHen rich men die whose purses swell with silver and with gold They straight shall have a Monument their memories to uphold Yet all that men can say of them they lived so unknown Is but to write upon their Tombs here lieth such a one When Joseph who died poor though Simon was his Porter Shall die as if he ne're had been and want his worths reporter Full many a Can he often drank In Fleet-street in the Cellar Yet he must unremembred dye like some base Fortune-teller He made the Ballad of the Turk and sung it in the street And shall he dye and no man heed it no friends it is not meet He lived in Garret high as high as any Steeple And shall he dye alas poor Jo unknown unto the People He had no Curtains to his Bed yet still paid